Queries of Spaceships
by Miss.AubreyChase
Summary: Set directly after aliens of London, I always wondered why Sherlock wasn't called in for the GIANT SPACESHIP, but then, what if he was? Fluffy, implied Johnlock, rated T for minor swearing


**This is a little ficlet, Inspired by god-knows-what, but I thought, 'why wasn't Sherlock investigating during Aliens of London' and so I answered myself with this. Hope you enjoy!**

The flat was warm, but John's tea was cold. They'd been back at Baker street for over three hours now, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out what was going on. He had seen the spaceship, it was real, the cool metal unearthly and not reading in the database. But Sherlock just walked around it making his deductions like any other crime scene. He didn't seem to be the least bit concerned that the crime scene in question was a sodding ALIEN SPACECRAFT. He just acted like it was another dull thing he had seen before, and when Lestrade had told him that it was a hoax, and that he'd call them when he had the next case, Sherlock simply nodded to John and said,

"Takeout?"

"Starving." John defaulted to his usual reply, he was still trying to process what had happened. As they turned onto Baker st. takeout carton in hand, Sherlock had said, out of the blue,

"I'll answer all your questions after we eat." Damn. Sometimes John forgot that the detective could read him so easily. But it was odd, Sherlock usually just let him figure the answers out for himself because they were 'obvious.'

So they had eaten in silence after a brief hello, and offer of biscuits from Mrs. Hudson (which Sherlock ignored and John had politely declined) they were sitting in their usual seats, Sherlock clearly deep in his mind palace and John's tea cold in his hand, thoughts whirling at a million miles an hour, unreachable.

"John, ask your questions now. Otherwise do shut up, you're being quite loud." Sherlock broke the silence in a very Sherlockian manner.

"That wasn't a hoax." It was a statement, not a question, but it demanded a solid explanation.

"No, it was not." he pauses, "I suppose you want to know what it was then?"

"Yeah." he considered adding the 'obviously' just to annoy his friend, but it could wait. He wanted answers.

"That was an alien belonged to a wealthy family from the planet of Raxacoricofallapatorius, they were a criminal family, a mob, and there were a good amount of them, 10 or 12."

John sat, stunned to silence, which was something he never thought he would experience again after all the strange things he'd seen and done.

"You're joking." Sherlock talked of an alien planet, Raxico- whatever it was, like it was real, something he should be used to. He was about to demand further explanation, but the detective continued.

"And yes, aliens are real, and no there are none at Baskerville, however there are a fair few at Torchwood, yes some of them are hostile - and those were, and yes I have met quite a few."

John took this surprisingly well, Sherlock noted, for just being informed that everything about the world he knew was wrong. After what seemed like an epoch of terse silence his golden haired partner nodded slightly and said

"Right. Ok."

Sherlock returned to his reading, and pretended (emphasis on PRETENDED) not to watch as John walked to the kitchen to rewarm his tea, and make a fresh cup for Sherlock.

The silence (and Sherlock's completely platonic analysis of John's bum) were broken by the sound of Mrs. Hudson's cheery voice as she led someone - a man and a woman, probably a couple, one's wearing a leather jacket- OH! - into their flat. Seconds later the detective was out of his chair and grinning like it was a triple murder.

"Doctor!" his voice was bright and very unlike the detective's usual brooding tenor.

"Sherlock!" the man responded with equal enthusiasm, and John couldn't help the flicker of jealousy he felt bubble inside him.

The men broke away from the hug, and Sherlock's voice regained its normal 'bored' tone, as he studies the pair, A short blonde woman, wearing a pink t-shirt and a jean jacket and her taller companion an older man with a leather jacket, and what can only be described as crazy eyes.

"John, this is The Doctor, and his new companion-" he looks expectantly at her.

"Rose, Rose Tyler, and not THAT new." The blonde - Rose - responds, with a hint of indignation.

"And it appears I am not the only one in new company," he sticks out his hand to John "Pleasure to meet you…" John stepped forward, shaking the man's hand

"John, John Watson, also not very new."

"Well, It's been a while." the Doctor responds cheerly. Mrs. Hudson comes rattling up the stairs with tea, and small talk is made. But the whole while, even after learning that the Doctor is a time traveling alien, John's last burning question swirls in his brain,

'Why are they saying it was a hoax?'

After the Doctor and Rose have left, back to their TARDIS, Sherlock turns to his blogger knowingly and says,

"Because they're not ready for it yet."

And that was the end of the queries of spaceships. For a while anyway.

 **Okay, so, short as it is, I hope you enjoyed! If I get enough requests I might do a sequel, but right now I have a few more pressing things. Love always, Aubrey.**


End file.
